


Workout

by rhysgore



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Cunnilingus, Fight Sex, M/M, Robot pussy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: “Had enough yet, pretty boy?” It’s spoken directly into his ear, and Raiden grinds his teeth.“Fuck off,” he responds, eloquently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt, oral sex, which i cant believe i haven't written before now. this was a fun one.

It started with an argument.

Raiden can’t and doesn’t care to remember what it was about initially, but something Sam had said rubbed him the wrong way. Mild irritation had grown to full-on anger as the conflict had escalated, and eventually turned to blows, both of them geared up and duking it out in one of the training rooms. 

They aren’t using swords- they’re not _that_ angry at each other- but a punch from an enhanced, metal fist still hurt like hell, and at this point, they’ve both landed enough on each other to be feeling the effects of the fight. Sam’s got him in a chokehold, pressed against the mats, and Raiden’s struggling to break it. 

“Had enough yet, pretty boy?” It’s spoken directly into his ear, and Raiden grinds his teeth.

“Fuck off,” he responds, eloquently. It’s not the cleverest thing he’s ever said, but his body is pumping chemicals into his fake bloodstream, ratcheting up his reflexes and physical sensations at the expense of clear thought. He’s not focusing on being clever, he’s focusing on the arm around his neck, the hand pulling his hair, the body pressed full-length against his back…

Raiden closes his eyes and jerks his head backwards. He focuses on the yelp of pain that accompanies his skull slamming into Sam’s nose, trying to ignore how hot his body feels, small jets of steam venting periodically from the joints in his shoulders.

The broken- or at least bleeding- nose isn’t enough to completely loosen Sam’s grip on his neck, so Raiden jabs an elbow back into his gut. The plate of armor covering his abdomen won’t give under a pressure like that, but the force is enough to wind him just slightly. His grip loosens, and Raiden shimmies out, rolling to the side and flipping up onto his feet. He cracks his shoulders, rolling his head from side to side as Sam rises, hand pressed to his face. When he takes his fingers away, they’re stained red.

“Playing dirty, huh?”

“Just taking a page out of your book.” Sam’s tongue darts out to lick a droplet of blood away from his upper lip, and the sight sends tingles down Raiden’s spine. 

He might as well admit it- this is turning him on. Maybe it’s the physical contact, the grappling that’s _way_ more intimate than it strictly needs to be, or maybe it’s the crossed wires in his head that associate pain- both giving and receiving it- with pleasure, but somewhere along the line, this has morphed from a more violent way to work out differences to something like foreplay. Sam’s bloody, tired, and yet still annoyingly smug smirk isn’t helping.

“Come and get it,” he growls, half-crouching, arms outstretched.

Sam practically leaps at him, aiming a series of blows at his face, chest, anywhere he can reach. As it usually is when they fight, it’s Sam’s years of formal training versus Raiden’s acquired skills and killer instinct, and it’s no less balanced for either of those things. They trade hits, sparks flying as metal glances off metal, breathing heavily, grunting, cursing, and _laughing._

Eventually, they both end up on the ground again, grappling each other in an attempt to get a pin. Sam manages to get on top, sitting himself on Raiden’s chest, and for a moment Raiden thinks he could honestly die being crushed to death under Sam’s thighs. He takes a deep breath, and bucks his entire body, unbalancing Sam just enough to push him off and throw him to the floor. They scrabble for control, rolling over one another, until Raiden manages to get Sam in a triangle choke, legs wrapped his neck, arms holding his head down, face crushed against Raiden’s lower stomach.

Sam goes oddly still, and it’s at that moment Raiden realizes the position they’re in.

“Enjoying yourself down there?” He asks. He was hoping it would come out as snarky, but it sounds as painfully aroused as Raiden feels. Two knuckle taps against the mat and Raiden loosens his grip on Sam’s head, letting him slip out just enough that he can actually breathe and move around.

When he looks up, his face is pink, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Raiden swallows hard, propping himself up on his elbows. Hands move to his hips, finding the clasps of his codpiece, Sam’s eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Is this your way of conceding defeat?” 

With a laugh, Sam undoes the clasps, working Raiden out of the covering. “If it is, I am going to have to lose to you more often.” He presses a kiss to the top of the patch of artificial skin revealed, and Raiden shivers under the warmth of his lips. Unconsciously, his legs spread wider, simultaneously showing off and letting Sam have a bit more room to move around. “Mmm. You’re wet already.”

“It’s your fault.” Raiden hisses as Sam’s head dips lower, mouthing at his slit, stubble tickling his skin. “You do this to me.” The tip of Sam’s tongue rubs over him, dipping into him before flattening out, licking a wide stripe up towards his clit.

Mouth occupied, Sam merely hums in response, the vibration making Raiden squirm. He’s still riding the high from the fight, body trembling and sensitive, the chemical release heightening every physical sensation, from the feeling of Sam gently sucking at the folds of his skin, to his hands massaging the exposed muscle fiber of Raiden’s thighs. The slick slide of a talented tongue and pair of lips working him enthusiastically.

“Fuck, _yes,”_ he gasps, squeezing his legs around Sam’s head, twining a hand in his hair and pulling hard, which Sam responds to with a soft bite and a finger slipping inside of him.

To his embarrassment, Raiden is almost always loud in bed (or on the floor, as the case may be) and Sam enjoys eking coarse moans and sighs from him. When he feels Raiden’s hips twitch against his face, he pulls back for a moment. He knows he must look as messy as Raiden right now, lips red and swollen, mouth glistening with the clear fluid Raiden’s artificial genitals excrete whenever he’s turned on, but it’s worth it to see the look on his face, glaring at Sam accusatorially even as Sam continues to fuck him with his fingers.

“You taste good, Jack,” he purrs, and Raiden’s face turns even redder. “Here, let me show you.” Two fingers to the second knuckle inside of him, Sam slides up Raiden’s body, kissing him. It’s filthy, between the slickness of Sam’s lips on Raiden’s metal jaw, the slide of tongues, and the way Raiden gasps into his mouth, hips bucking.

When he pulls away, Raiden looks almost dazed. A strand of drool runs down his face, unchecked.

“Who needs those fancy flavor additive augmentations, huh?” Sam chuckles, and it’s a testament to how far gone Raiden is that he doesn’t get kicked in the head for it.

Grinding hard on Sam’s fingers, Raiden gasps. “S-shit, _Sam-”_ he gasps, writhing in place as Sam’s head returns to its position between his legs. He’s leaking uncontrollably, and Sam’s working him with jaw, lips, and tongue alike, three fingers thrusting in and out as he sucks at Raiden’s swollen clit.

Body rolling, Raiden focuses in for just a moment, enough to catch the way Sam’s looking at him. His gaze is still smug, but _intense,_ brow creased with the effort of eating Raiden out, and even though he can’t speak, Raiden knows what he must be thinking.

_Come for me pretty boy, come on-_

It’s that look that sends him over the edge, body quivering, fingers clenching into fists in Sam’s hair and thighs squeezing tight around his head, moaning, steam venting in large plumes from his shoulders. His hips buck up, before going boneless, collapsing back onto the mat as he relaxes with a sigh, peaceful, fucked out smile crossing his face.

He gets to relax for approximately five seconds after coming before he feels a furious scratching at his thighs, and opens his eyes blearily to see Sam staring at him with urgency, face going blue. Oops. He relaxes the muscles of his legs, letting the man slip out, and Sam groans, pressing his hands to his temples.

“No offense, Jack, but as pretty as your legs are, I would prefer not to have my skull popped open by them while I am eating you out,” he grumbles as he stands up, mostly good natured. He looks _debauched,_ long strands of hair pulled out of his ponytail, skin flushed red both from heat and chafing, jaw and cheeks messy with clear fluid that his tongue is darting out to lick at.

“Yeah, like it’s _my_ legs that are the potential deadly weapon. Have you _seen_ your thighs? Every time my head goes anywhere near them I’m afraid for my life,” Raiden quips back, accepting the hand Sam holds out to pull himself to his feet. His legs feel wobbly, pleasantly buzzing from his orgasm.

Sam’s hand slides from his shoulder to his hip, squeezing lightly. “Speaking of your head and my thighs, how about we get out of here, huh? Other people _do_ use this gym, occasionally.”

Raiden sighs. “It’s a good thing you’re so good at making me cum that I don’t mind occasionally risking my life,” he mutters, but nevertheless, lets the hand at his waist pull him somewhere more private.

**Author's Note:**

> my hands create nothing but pornography im sorry mom


End file.
